


the power in a name

by shadesoflondon



Category: The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: ;), F/M, Negotiations, No Apologies, Post Ruin and Rising, Power Plays, Sexy Times, alina wanting power, because she deserves it, darkling is Horny, dom darkling.... yesss, mal isn't in this at all don't worry, those are always funn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 00:39:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18712960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadesoflondon/pseuds/shadesoflondon
Summary: At the end of Ruin & Rising, Alina agrees to cooperate with the Darkling in order to keep her friends alive. A year has since passed. Slowly, she comes to realize her true potential, and slowly, she starts to understand him. What would happen if she were to take the throne by his side?Yes folks, this is exactly what it sounds like: an excuse to write smut!!!





	the power in a name

**Author's Note:**

> This idea came to me while working on my main fic, and was just too entertaining to let go. So here it is! I may or may not expand it, and this fic may or may not become a collection of grisha trilogy one shots. 
> 
> BTW, this chapter is dedicated to the real MVPs: dictionary & thesaurus.com…. “Thesaurus.com, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul…”

Grey eyes, framed by black lashes. Long and dark and haunted. There were hollows under them, purpled like a bruise, but beautiful nonetheless.

Even now, I admired of him. Even after everything.

“You are on my throne.”

Satisfaction unfurled in my stomach. I looked to where the Darkling stood, tall and callous in the throne room entry. His voice rang out loud against the marble walls. I sat sprawled across his chair, one leg resting on an armrest and my head propped up on my hand.

“I am.”

His expression was unamused. Slowly, he walked from the doorway and stepped up the dais. I didn’t move. With a flick of his hand, all of the oprichniki filed out. He didn’t speak again until we were alone. Not once did his gaze leave me, flickering from the curve of my legs, to the arch of my spine, the unconcerned curl of my fingers.

“What is the meaning of this?”

Short and to the point. He had been nothing but short and to the point with me since our game started a year ago. I ignored him for a moment, tracing the golden swirls on the side of the chair.

“I think…” I paused. I looked up carefully, keeping my voice level. “That I would like my seat to be next to yours.”

He blinked, his grey eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Your seat?”

There was an empty space on the platform where the _tsaritsa’s_ throne once stood. It was removed after I refused to take it, and still I hadn’t figured out why. Was it to send me a message? To remove the constant reminder of my rejection? Symbols and gestures meant a lot to him. The Darkling was many things, and the more I got to know him, sentimental seemed to be one of them.

“You’ve changed your mind,” he stated simply. Flatly. “After your shows of defiance and ethical superiority?”

“This isn’t about _ethics.”_

“Then what is this about?”

“Power,” I said simply. It was the thing that connected us, the thing that bound us, the only language we truly shared. If anything, he understood power. The Darkling’s only response was an exhale- and then he tipped his chin back, scrutinizing me from under his lashes.

“I said a year ago that my power was yours, and that yours is mine,” I continued. “That is true. You have my power… at least as much as I consent to give you. Earn my trust, earn my loyalty, Darkling, and you can have all of it. But you will only get from me what I get from you.”

He stepped forward slowly, one foot in front of the other, folding his arms behind his back.

“You want a throne,” he said skeptically. “You want a seat of power.”

He sounded doubtful, yes. But maybe I imagined it when he sounded a little like something else, too.

“I want a _voice._ I want to make decisions that are _respected_.”

“And what would be your first step to getting that?”

I considered that for a moment, spinning a pale strand of hair around my finger.

“A new title. The people of Ravka now see me as nothing more than your _consort,_ ” I spat. If there was anything about me that currently needed some patching up, it was certainly my reputation. He had done a decent job of removing my good influence in Ravka. Now when people thought of the Sun Summoner, they thought of nothing. I was nothing, only a ghost of the hope they once held.

“My dear Alina,” he said. “ _Moya sankta, moya solnishka, moya tsaritsa_. Your title does not matter- it is your power that does.”

I stopped twirling my hair and looked at him. His impassive expression actually made me straighten in the seat.

“Do you take me for a fool?” I asked. He wasn’t taking my nonchalant attitude seriously. I was as transparent as ever, an open book to be easily read and deciphered. A corner of his mouth tugged upward, clearly pleased that I didn’t take whatever bait he had laid out.

“I don’t.”

He backed off the dais and reconsidered me. Slowly, deliberately, he circled the throne and dragged his gaze across my figure. Something in me squirmed under the light in his eyes, in the way he analyzed me. Yet my face stayed stony. I had long since learned that giving him a reaction was no different than handing him a weapon.

“A new title…” I heard him muse from behind me. Quicker than I could blink, we were plunged into darkness. I felt the firm press of his hands on my shoulders, shackling me down. Leaning around the side of the throne, he brought his lips to my ear.

“How about... _mine_ ,” he murmured. A shiver touched my skin and was gone. I was not a thing to be possessed.

“I am _Ravka’s_ ,” I countered, trying to act like I didn’t notice his mouth hovering beside mine. Raising a palm, I conjured a ball of light. It bathed the surrounding few feet around us in a golden glow. I looked to the Darkling, his face leaning only inches over my shoulder, to gauge his reaction to my power.

He looked at the light with an unmasked expression of hunger. It was much like my own hunger for power, I realized, then immediately batted the thought away. I was not going down that road.

All thoughts fled from my mind at the feel of his lips on my neck. It was nothing more than a brush of skin against skin, so small it could’ve been an accident. But I knew that it wasn’t. Nothing that the Darkling did was an accident. He dragged his lips from my neck up to my cheek, sending a dizzying wave of power through me. In a slow, lazy movement, he raised his hand to meet mine and conjured his own ball of darkness. I channeled power from where his lips met my skin and let my light shine brighter. We both watched, frozen in place. He nipped at my jaw.

My light flickered out at the graze of his teeth, and once again, we were thrown into the dark. He took my pliancy as an invitation, moving to push me against the throne. It took every inch of my willpower to force him away.

“ _Don’t.”_

To avoid showing more weakness than I already had, I pushed off the throne and set a good amount of distance between us. The darkness was gone. He immediately folded into the seat, even having the nerve to brush his kefta off, as if it was dirty.

“Can you accomplish _anything_ without manipulating someone?” I asked angrily, my hands shaking at the loss of our connection.

“It’s a necessary evil, I’m afraid.”

“No you’re not,” I said. “You’re not afraid of anything except having less power. You lie, and cheat, and kill without a drop of remorse.”

“And you wouldn’t, if it meant the salvation of your country?”

“No. Not for anything.”

“Give that a few centuries,” he said dryly.

“I’d kill for Ravka, but I wouldn’t do it without remorse. I would remember the names of the dead, and I would bury them appropriately,” I spat.

Coldness masked his face, clearing his expression of all emotion except icy superiority. He leaned his elbows on his knees. In a matter of seconds the Darkling had gone from amused to condescending, changing moods like one would change a coat.

“The names of the dead tend to blend together after the first century,” he said flatly. “By the second, you forget what it is like to fear mortality. At the third, death becomes less of an enemy and more of an acquaintance.”

The Darkling’s face was no longer flat.

“Do not pretend to know what it is like to bury person after person, for hundreds of years, and one day realize that you can’t remember their names. When all is said and done, you’ll understand. And you will have me,” he said. “I will be here, forever and always, the only concrete thing you will ever know. Do you know what it means, that we will outlive even Ravka?”

He didn’t wait for my answer.

“You have not yet felt _loss_ ,” he snarled. “Loss is the rise and fall of empires, the death of a bloodline you have befriended for five hundred years. It is to be the only one who even remembers they existed.”

I thought of Nikolai, being nothing but dust and dirt in a few decades time. I imagined living long enough to see even his legacy be lost to history. Sadness overwhelmed me at the thought of forgetting his name. I told myself that I wouldn’t, but who knows how many times that the Darkling had made that same promise.

“So go ahead and make me your villain,” he said, quoting himself. “Pretend to understand history and people and the way of the world. You don’t know anything.”

The only appropriate thing to do there was pause. He had revealed more about himself in the past minute than he had in a year, and proceeding too recklessly could mean closing him off even further.

“You’re right,” I admitted slowly. “And I don’t want to be alone.”

“You have that _otkazat’sya_ boy to keep you company,” he sneered.

“I ended things with Mal.”

He chuckled. It was more because he had been right, I thought, then that I had suffered.

“He didn’t....” For once, I didn’t know what to say. When my friends asked, I told them that Mal and I didn’t love each other ‘like that’ anymore. But that wasn’t true. Simply put, Mal just didn’t understand my power. He didn’t get why I needed it, or why we couldn’t just flee to Fjerda and live out the rest of our days alone. When I had tried to tell him that I would outlive him, he thought I was making excuses. And unlike my friends, the Darkling would see right through any bullshit I tried to sell him. So I told the truth.

“He didn’t understand my power. He wanted the girl I was before- the weak one, the malleable one. The girl who would’ve fallen for anyone who showed her an act of kindness.”

“You don’t still hold any naive, childish feelings for the boy?”

I bit my lip. That was a loaded question.

“He and I aren’t right for each other- it’s as simple as that.”

His eyes roved mine, searching for a sliver of untruth. He wouldn’t find any.

“Why?” I asked. “Is there something you want from him?”

His face twisted in disgust.

“I want nothing more than to rip him into pieces.”

“You will not touch him,” I steeled, trying to put as much force into my words as possible. A dimple showed on his cheek. The Darkling seemed to find my response cute.

“I will do what I see fit,” he mulled.

“Is there a reason you hate _otkazat’sya_ so much?”

“They’ve murdered our kind for centuries,” he said, as if the answer was obvious. A few stray curls fell into his face- he brushed them away.

“That is not Mal. That is not most people. I think you’re hateful because you’re scared. That’s what hate stems from, right? How many times has an _otkazat’sya_ killed someone you cared about? Threatened to kill you?” I shook my head. “Fear is usually the cause of hatred.”

His entire body stilled, but he said nothing. Asking for my silence would be a concession of weakness.

“I’m... scared too. I have all of this power, and I don’t know what to do with it.” I said, slowly making my way back to his seat. “The day I found out I had this light, I became a piece in a chess game. I became someone with influence, and had no idea how to wield it. But now I’m ready, I think. I want to start using it to better things.”

Whatever I was expecting to hear, it wasn’t what he said next.

“You’re not ready.”

“What?”

“You’re not ready. You’re not cooperative, and you’re not truly aware of the effect of your powers.”

“You can’t just…”

“Actually, _sankta_ , I can. And I did.”

He folded a leg over his knee, closing himself off. With a flick of his hand, I was dismissed. It seemed the conversation was over. I scanned his face, finding nothing but boredom. His go-to tactic for shutting people out.

Had I struck that deep a nerve? I rooted myself to the ground. I was not his dog, or his tool, and if he ever wanted my power, he had to treat me with respect. As if he could sense my thoughts, he rolled his eyes skyward.

“Alina, please,” he said. “I have other matters to attend to.”

“Oh, shut _up_ ,” I shot back. I didn’t look back as I turned on my heel, head held high, and strode from the room.

~~~

I don’t think I had ever been more pissed in my entire life.

I had spent the past few hours pacing. It wasn’t like I had much to do after he dismissed me anyways, only a few reading assignments, and saints knew I couldn’t focus.

No one had disturbed me since I returned to my quarters, which was probably a good thing. I was practically spitting fire. What did he mean, I was uncooperative? That I didn’t understand the effects of my power? It sounded an awful lot like he was wanting me to be a pawn, not a person.

It was long after sunset before I prepared for bed. I threw on my night slip, washed my face, and settled between my sheets. In the dark corners of the room I imagined finding slivers of his power, and I imagined choking them.

_I was going to confront him._

The thought was a whisper at first, but as the minutes crawled by, it grew louder and louder. _I would confront him. I would confront him._ It was a mantra in my head almost, refusing to quiet until action was taken. I bounced up and threw a brush to my hair. Before leaving I paused to grab my kefta _,_ but thought better of it. He had considered it a victory when I finally started wearing it. There was no way in hell I’d give him the satisfaction of seeing me beg in it.

No, I wouldn’t beg. I would do nearly anything and everything to get this throne. But beg? Never.

Servants gave me odd looks in the hall. It was unusual to see me out of my rooms after nightfall, as on the Darkling’s orders, a few _oprichniki_ were stationed by my door to keep me inside. A bright flash of light and a hard hit to the head had taken care of them. 

Another wall of _oprichniki_ awaited me at the door to the Darkling’s quarters. I cursed as I realized I couldn’t exactly hit them and run. There were four, not two, and the room was far too open to get away with that. But if I did attack… I’d likely be grabbed. And dragged through the door and thrown, sans dignity, at the Darkling’s feet. The image made me grimace. Standing pressed against the wall wouldn’t get me anywhere, so mustering as much confidence as I could, I turned the corner and walked straight up to them.

“The Darkling has requested to see me,” I said, feigning disinterest.

The _oprichniks’_ stares were blank and disbelieving.I tapped my foot, but none of them stirred. A beat passed.

I raised my hands. Leveling them all a look, I mustered my most queenly voice. “If you don’t escort me to him, my first act as _tsaritsa_ will be reassigning you all to kitchen duty. That is not a joke.”

They all shifted on their feet. A promise from the Sun Summoner was not an empty one, whether it be good or bad. The man closest to me sighed, turning to the others. “I’ll take her,” he said. “The _tsar_ wouldn’t be pleased to hear that we turned away his _sankta_.” The others made no response, but didn’t stop us as we went past them. Inside stretched a long, dark hallway spotted with doors.

There were no windows in the Darkling’s quarters. Candles were the only source of light, arranged on metal fixtures lining the wide hall. It was moody and dark and entirely _him._ The blue accents that used to adorn everything were replaced with black. I recalled my surprise from a few months ago as I noticed, looking around the revamped palace for the first time, that new hints of white could be found as well.

The _oprichnik_ stopped. He gestured toward an ebony set of double-doors, almost awkwardly, clearing his throat.

“He’s usually there this time of day. This is as far as I’m allowed to go.”

With a dip of his head he was gone, and I was left standing alone in the middle of the corridor. _Saints_ _help me_ , it took a colossal amount of discipline not to snoop. I would probably never have an opportunity this good again. But a mission was a mission, and I would hate myself forever if I did something stupid to sabotage it. Swallowing, I drifted over to the door that the man gestured to.

The Darkling was inside, alright. Even through the wood I could feel the echo of his power. It called out to me.

_Like calls to like._

I shivered, then regained composure. The handle was cold as I brushed my fingers over it.

The Darkling was sitting in a chair when I stepped inside, a book in his hand and a glass of _kvas_ on the small table beside him. This room appeared to be his newer bedroom, filled with black furniture and a dark four poster bed. At the sight of me, his eyebrows shot upward.

“You do realize,” he said, bookmarking his page, “that these are my personal quarters?”

I noticed distractedly that he was clad in nothing but a dark shirt and trousers. His kefta _,_ which I had rarely seen him without, was hanging on the door of his wardrobe. 

“I need to speak with you.”

“Is this about earlier?”

“Yes…” I trailed off. He sighed almost inaudibly. 

“I’m not in the mood to argue, Alina.”

“I’m not here to argue. I’m here to _negotiate_ ,” I said, fighting my nerves. I slunk toward him. My fingers untied the sash around my waist, and let it drop to the floor. I looked at the Darkling from under my lids. His book forgotten, he stood. A tremor of something dark crossed our bond.

“What is this?” He asked, his voice sharp.

“I think it’s obvious. I’m proving that I can cooperate…” I unbuttoned the first button on my nightgown. “And that I understand perfectly well what my power can do.” I didn’t stop moving until we were standing flush against each other. A swallow caught in my throat. Looking up into his eyes, I made to undo my second button. His hand stopped mine.

“I don’t think you know what you’re doing.”

“I know perfectly well what I’m doing.”

I pressed his hand against my heart. “I want. My throne,” I enunciated. “And I know what that means doing.”

“And what is that?” The deep timbre of his voice heated my blood.

“ _Cooperating,_ ” I lilted. “Summoners were meant to work in pairs, after all…” Standing so close together, I could feel the hitch in his breath. He placed a finger under my chin, tilting it up with gentle deliberateness. Black pupils swallowed the grey of his eyes. Satisfaction curved my lips upward. His gaze flicked to them, and stayed there, starting a warm ache between my legs.

“You still need to prove yourself,” he murmured, tightening his grip on my chin.

“How?” I asked, stepping out of his grasp. My face, where he had touched it, felt alight. I walked a few feet towards the door. I couldn’t think straight standing so close to him, not when he was looking at me like that.

Arms, solid and strong, wrapped around my waist from behind. Reflexively I stepped back, only to feel his chest press against my spine. The feel of his skin on mine sent dizzying waves of rightness through me. His lips brushed my ear, and I couldn’t help but lean into the touch.

“How?” He repeated the question lowly, fingers finding my second button. “With time, you will...”

My breath hitched as he undid it. His fingers made their way to the third, and unclasped it just as quickly. Cold air hit my bare skin. His hand brushed over my now exposed collarbones, sending a loud tremor of power down our bond. I sighed, tipping my head back and onto his shoulder. There was no hesitation on his end- instantly, his mouth was on my neck, a tangle of teeth and tongue. Button after button was undone. I could slowly feel the small nightgown slipping off.

His teeth grazed my neck hard enough to bruise, causing my eyes to fly open. The pain was enough to snap me back into the present. It was then I actually registered what he said, and pushed him away. Panting, we stared at each other.

“What do you mean?” I snapped. “‘With time?’ What are you saying?”

“You need time,” he said. “To prove yourself a worthy leader.”

“Why are _you_ the one who gets to decide what a worthy leader is?”

“Because _I_ am the _tsar_ ,” he responded with authority. I growled, clenching my hair in my fists. The Darkling’s only response was a look, long and calculated, before he walked to the door. I was going to ask him what he was doing when I heard it- the _click_ of the lock. Adrenaline dropped like lead into my gut. For a moment, he didn’t move, only stared at where his hand rested on the door handle. When he turned back to face to me, I saw that a lot of his patience- or self control- was gone. In its place was anger, and frustration, and something far more primal.

His eyes locked on mine. “I…” I said, my voice failing as he stepped toward me. “What are you doing?” I asked, backing away. I shouldn’t have been so unsteady, but this wasn’t what I anticipated. I expected more arguing and negotiating, not... this.

Instead of speaking, he reached for my arm. I backed into the bed. With nowhere else to go, and uncertain of what was happening, I crawled backward onto the sheets.

The heat between my legs grew warmer as he paused at the foot of the bed.  

“I can _make_ you _tsaritsa,”_ he said. His tone was thick and slow, not at all matching the intensity crowding his features. Alarm bells went off in my head and between my legs.

“What do you mean?”

A rare smirk lifted the corner of his mouth. I clenched my teeth, and shifted a few inches farther away.

“I think you know exactly what I mean.”

The suggestion in his voice wasn’t teasing. It was deep and aching, full of hunger and longing. In one motion, his shirt was off and on the floor. I felt my mouth dry.

“Do you care to elaborate?” I asked, allowing mocking desire to enter my voice. His quartz eyes locked on mine. Deciding to push things, I spread my legs fractionally. He didn’t miss the movement.

Pinning me in place with his eyes, he climbed onto the bed after me. Before I could move out of the way, he sat between my knees and caged me against the headboard. We weren’t actually touching, as his arms were only placed around me, but our closeness sent sparks of electricity through my veins.

“You are welcome to push me away at any time,” he said, leaning into my mouth. I thought he would kiss me, but instead he bit my lower lip and drew away. I snapped my legs together.

Gently, he hooked a finger in the waistband of my underwear. It slid off without resistance, dragging against my skin and sending shivers down my lower half. The nightgown still kept me covered, but I felt completely naked under his gaze. This newfound vulnerability only worked to piss me off further.

A hand ran up my leg and slipped into the inside of my thigh. “Wrap your legs around me,” he said, desire roughening his words. He pressed his other hand inside my opposite thigh. I was so very close to doing what he wanted, to giving in to the growing throb in my center, but the memory of my goal kept me from surrendering.

“Wait.”

The word came out forced and breathy, but it did what it needed to. He pulled back for a moment to look me over. I hated that I sounded so off balance, so unsteady. Control is what I wanted in this situation, over him and over myself. If we were going to do this, I needed to know that I was getting my crown out of it.

“The crown,” I said, my voice stronger, “is it mine?”

“Alina, we can talk about this _later_.”

“No- is it mine?”

His fingers slid closer to my center. On instinct, I tightened my legs, only forcing them nearer.

“You ask me that, as if I would give it to someone else,” he shook his head humorlessly. My moistness brushed his fingers, and a glazed look masked his eyes

“Is that a yes?” I asked, unable to keep the smirk from my voice. He didn’t answer. Instead, he clenched his jaw and removed his hands. Catching me off guard, he used his knees to spread my legs.

“What are you-“ I cut myself off with a gasp. One of his slender fingers slid into my opening. I clamped my mouth shut, but a moan still escaped through my teeth. He eased out, then in again, and I did nothing to stop him. When a second finger slid inside, I let my head fall back against the headboard. My limbs felt both light and heavy at the same time. I was drugged, and it was bliss.

The Darkling pressed closer to me. Fractionally, his speed increased, and I arched to meet his movements. A satisfied hum left his lips at my compliance. I closed my eyes at the pulses of pleasure that spread through me, and once again, he drew forward to tease my neck. That was when I felt it- his desire, his erection, pressing at my thigh through his pants. At the same moment, he rubbed his thumb over my clit, and something in me snapped. The sensation was like fire. My nerves and his amplification powers together created a symphony of pleasure, and the strength of it tore a gasp from somewhere deep inside of me.

At the sound, he pushed away, panting and feral. “Now,” he growled, “ _wrap your legs around me.”_ I gave him the most spiteful look I could manage, but didn’t hesitate to follow instructions.

Around his erection he slid his pants off, and grabbed at my hips. My ankles locked around his waist. Once we were positioned properly, he braced his arms against the headboard and leaned to whisper in my ear.

“I’m going to make you forget all about that _otkazat’sya,”_ he purred. There was a shift between us. His length pressed into my entrance, awakening inside of me something purely animal. Suddenly, my hesitation was gone. I turned his face toward mine and connected our lips. The kiss was slow and deep, but not gentle. Both of my hands came to rest on his cheeks. Patience forgotten, the Darkling drew away. He ripped the rest of the buttons from my nightgown and threw it to the ground, leaving me completely undressed. There was a pause where he looked me up and down. With an expression of unmasked want, he thumbed my breasts, and a whimper rose from my throat.  

I took in his length with a roll of my hips. At the pressure of my walls around him, he emitted a small, very un-Darkling like groan. I might’ve been pleased, if I hadn’t also been caught up in the feel of him.

He slipped into me, then out, and in and out. We moved together slowly, then faster as I adjusted to his girth. My fingers twined behind his neck and into the hair at the base of his head. One of his hands fell from the wall and gripped my ass, sliding me farther onto him. A whine melted from my tongue. He groaned in approval, tightening his grip and working me faster. I felt my legs cramp and hardened the grip of my thighs around his middle. The change of pressure drew a soft sound from him, and I could better feel the movement of his hips. With his size and speed, it should have hurt, but I felt nothing but pleasure. He was good, and he knew it. The cockiness that I expected wasn't there though. Instead, his gaze still held that fiery fervor.

"You hate this," I whimpered. "Don't you?"

He didn't pause, but wrapped the hand that rested on my ass into my hair. Gently bit firmly, he yanked my head back.

"I hate-" he paused as I gasped, his base meeting my entrance- "that I haven't been able to sit alone for the past year without imagining this." He thrusted out. "That I can't look at you without thinking about the _noises_ I want to hear you make." He thrusted in, his eyes drinking up my eagerness. They dropped to my exposed throat.

This time, his lips were forgotten as teeth traced bruises down my neck. He was marking me. I didn't care- I wanted him, all of him. I pulled him farther into me and moaned in satisfaction. A slight pause of his mouth told me that he wasn't expecting that. Liking that I enjoyed his viciousness, he continued. Each nip was harder than the last. As far as he could reach, he marked me, the occasional flick of hot tongue bringing obscene noises to my mouth. I tried swallowing them down.

"Don't hold it back," he murmured against my collarbones. Black hair was clenched so tightly between my fingers that I was sure it stung him. Doing as he said, I stopped caging my sounds in. We continued like this for a minute, until he slowed his hips and stopped.

“What is it?” I asked, my grip on his neck slacking. He panted into my shoulder, and turned to look into my eyes. In his own I saw something hungry, and below it, something hollow.

“Say my name,” he breathed.

My lips parted.

He jerked into me, causing my fingers to pull at his hair. Then he didn’t move much at all. He had slowed for only a few seconds, but already I missed the rhythm of him inside me.

“Please,” I whimpered.

“Say my name,” he repeated.

Again, I said nothing. He hummed in irritation.

“You can’t _make_ me say it,” I panted, nibbling at his ear. “There’s no point in trying.”

For a moment, he didn’t breathe. “Are you challenging me, Alina?”

And then I was slammed back into the wall. He took me with a new force, his anger clear in each stroke. My hands slipped from his neck, and instead of allowing me to reposition them, he pinned them to the wall. Something powerful surged in my core. It spread like light through my body, a whole new level to my pleasure. But it wasn’t the end for me; not yet.

“ _Sankts_ ,” I gasped without restraint. “Fuck. _Fuck_.” He pushed harder. I knew what he wanted, what would set him over the edge. I yielded.

“Aleks, _please,_ ” I begged. A moan spilled from his throat. He hung his head and shuddered, the name touching him somewhere my body couldn’t.

He was going to finish.

I was certain of it, when he tightened his grip on my wrists. It became the only thing that mattered- so as he pounded me into the headboard, I pushed him farther.

“ _Aleksander_ ,” I said, “ _moy tsar-”_

He gasped, reaching his climax. The thrum in my blood sped up, and at his ragged intakes of breath, I found my own ending as well. He held me against the wall until I was done, my throat raw and thighs sore.

And gentler than I thought he could be, he laid me down. We stared at each other for a moment, both lying on our sides, before he drew me into him. With the sheets tangled below us, he placed a kiss to my forehead.

“Soon,” he said, “we’ll use that kind of power to change the world.”

“Both of us?” I whispered.

“Both of us,” he affirmed.

I smiled.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Do I even need to mention Blackheretic anymore?? Thank you for proofing this, and for the helpful advice! <3
> 
> EDIT: 5/16/19 - Revised a few things.  
> EDIT: 5/19/19 - Expanded smut scene :)  
> EDIT: 7/14/19 - Reread this and cringed, which is probably a good sign writing-development wise. Changed some things. More changes likely to come.  
> EDIT: 7/25/19 - More edits! Probably done editing now.  
> EDIT: 9/29/19 - OKAY I LIED. Removed one sentence.


End file.
